Chapter 1 : Running off empty Steam and empty Dreams

To begin.

It was a mystery why, despite meticulous planning, things always seemed to get away from Nadiya.

Landing a skimmer? Easy. Stealing transportation? A surprising walk in the park. The most challenging part, if she's being honest, was figuring out the inner workings of a car (which she hasn't driven in years thanks to public transport) and navigating map directions to the White House.

Which, unsurprisingly, is the most unhelpful part.

The only directions they've got so far is a map they haggled off a random vendor's kiosk and a jumbled, hazy memory of Remy's elementary school field trip. (The latter being less useful than the former, and that's directly due to the memory being, what, 15 years old? Yeah, they're not getting anywhere on that. Even if Remy still thinks it's doable.)

Despite these odds and the obstacle at hand, the plan seemed to be going off without a hitch.

Then the White House came, and they bid their farewells to the king and consort at the black steel gates, plopped down like a sack of bricks on the sidewalk.

Remy left a note on a mustard-stained napkin, and soon after, they were gone before anyone could notice. The van pipe trailing in the wind as they sped off out of sight.

So, in a sense, she could say that everything's going well, yeah. Maybe even a little too well. Nadiya's no expert on it, definitely not to an unreasonable degree, but when things like this fall in line perfectly with what she envisioned in her head, check for check, it starts to feel a little suppositious.

She reminds herself that there's no such thing as jinxing it. That you can't make something happen that you don't believe in already. That's usually just causation triggered by a sudden chain of events. So when trouble finally comes knocking, as she expects, it's a reminder of another point in a series of connections, never fate.

Whatever. She can at least say it wasn't government, all things considered.

Nadiya gasps as she pushes against the alleyway wall, hair frazzled and stinking of soot.

She looks dramatic in her battered state, perhaps even biblical if it were coming from the mouth of the redhead. Their accomplice, but she isn't here.

Nadiya's mind blanks on her face, too preoccupied elsewhere, where her head befalls in a daze. She feels a heavy, dizzying spell come over her. Her breath leaving in sharp puffs of air, legs tingling with ache.

She can still hear the echoes of gunfire. With how close some came, she half wonders if it had caused any detrimental damage.

She hopes not, but the ringing hasn't left her. Her whole body chimes like a theremin. She squats down on the red brick end of the alley, her hands gripping the grit-covered wall.

Remy coughs up once, then twice, gagging on the smell. His legs fold in like an accordion as he hits the pavement faster than any of them. Back hunched and fingers curling into the dirt.

It would be an alarming sight to Nadiya if she wasn't already concerned.

When the calm has cleared and their breathing has settled into a steady, quiet rhythm, Remy, whose body sought the floor, leans against the wall opposite Nadiya, gazes at his two fellow compatriots, and says:

"Man, I hope I don't get, like, horse trauma after this."

Nadiya slouches down from the soiled soles of her shoes and gazes at the near, delirious man in front of her.

His voice is (no pun intended) hoarse from running, hollowed out where each breath draws a weak rasp or two, but there's a drop of humor in it. Like he's reciting a bad joke.

Nadiya takes him all in. The underside of his left eye is covered in bruising; there's a mess of snot at the base of his nose; and there's blood on his jaw, where the teeth of a knuckle hit his cheek, curling like rust in the sun.

"What?" she says.

Remy doesn't answer, doesn't seem like he can or even tries to. His mouth opens, but it's coveted by a grueling cough that nearly knocks him over. He tries getting up instead, working his hands against the back wall behind him.

A scramble, clumsy, and fruitless. When that fails, he falls back on his haunches with a huff, followed by another cloud of coughs.

A lump makes its way into the middle of Nadiya's throat. Shit. "Remy."

"Little man?" Kardala's voice burrows just below a murmur. Even at that, it still booms across the alleyway.

"I'm fine. I'm fine." He says, then lets loose another cough. "Just let me work the pollution out my lungs, and I'll get back to you in a sec."

Dramatic, Nadiya wants to say, grimacing. She tries straightening herself, standing at her full height. One hand that was wrapped around her waist acts like a bridge between herself and the wall as she peels off. "Can you walk?"

"Um, lemme see." He sticks his tongue out, lets it roll over the split divide of his bottom lip. He looks down at his sneakers and checks his legs. Then, with some effort, he tries to get himself off the wall again. Regrettably, it fails, and he goes sliding back where he started. "Yeah, um, doesn't look like it."

Nadiya releases a sigh and drops forward, exhaustion making its presence known among them. It takes a moment for her to position herself close enough to reach Remy. He coughs in her direction, and it takes all her willpower combined not to cringe and lean backwards. "How bad is it?"

"How bad is what? The bruises or the possible concussion I'm sporting?"

"Be serious with me!" She hisses, fingers snapping at attention. No matter the situation, he always seemed to find time for jokes. It bothers her in some weird sort of way. Even his voice can't hide it, though thankfully he listens to her and hushes up.

Remy kicks his legs towards his chest, letting Nadiya get closer. "Um," he says, tilting his head back, his chest rising like a bobbing wave. "Pretty bad. I think I may have hurt a rib or something; I don't know."

"Are you sure you can't walk?" Kardala asks, somewhere behind Nadiya.

Remy peeks his head over Nadiya's shoulder. "I, maybe?"

"Then allow me." Large hands spring downward, drawing towards them. "If you cannot move or stand, I can carry—."

"No, no, hold on, this is fine," Remy interrupts, his hands pushing at the ground, working his legs again. "I think I can—" Then he moves, his hands gripping with the intent to further coerce action, if just for a moment. He musters enough strength to move about an inch from where he started, and that's about all the patience Nadiya has.

"Stop."

He freezes and looks at her. Legs gone stiff and mouth quiet. Her hands feel weird cupped over his shoulder—foreign, strange, and yeah, okay, she's definitely not used to this. Not one bit, but honestly, she's grown tired of this whole push-and-pull.

"Don't move; you're clearly hurt." She says, voice going surgically firm. One hand unclips from Remy, pushing forward. She sends him another glare when he goes to open his mouth and shuts it. "And don't argue; just let it be, okay? Let us help."

Her brain does the planning, always ten steps ahead. She takes her arm under his back, grimacing at the way the blood clings to her wrists. He's hurt more than just a rib.

"We need to get out of here." Nadiya says like a whisper, urgency bleeding underneath.

The other two don't argue; something like a mutual nod between them, and she gathers what weight she can and carries him forward.

As luck would have it, or rather lack thereof, they made it out of the city in one piece.

Good news was Remy didn't actually hurt a rib. There were a few minor injuries, but nothing that would warrant a detour, and Nadiya could be thankful for that.

She'd hate having to go a hospital for something otherwise non-serious and avoidable.

Bad news was they still had nothing. There are very few details, and no real plan to take. At least not ones that involved running.

This, of course, is only realized by Nadiya later when they stop at a Rita's Italian ice shop. Some half-mile food distraction, far from the tight congestion that makes up a third of DC.

They're still in it, somewhere, just a small artery of it, but there's fewer people here and less room for exigency, so it's a little calming on the nerves.

"I just think the blood makes for real attractions on us." Remy says. Red ice trickles down his chin and hand as he haphazardly tries to contain the juice from dribbling down his arm. "Y'know? We could use new clothes."

"I just don't see the point. We'd just be wasting more time buying things we don't need. It would just add to our already long trip."

"I know, but I don't think it would incline other people to stay out of our business if we're dressed like we just fought in a gladiator pit." Remy peers over her shoulder, eyeing something beyond Nadiya.

About two tables away, a woman is sitting with her child. She's been watching them for the past ten minutes. Brown hair, a yellow dress, and one hand on the wrist of her child.

The mom's gaze elicits greater fear than that of the red-capped boy. Whose mesmerized face sparkles with fascination as he watches Kardala munch on several pounds worth of gelato. The ice and custard roll down her throat, juice dripping from her chin in a serpent blue stream.

Nadiya sighs. "I guess we could make one stop, but what about our plan?"'

"What plan?"

"Our plan for when we get out of here?" She says, tentatively sipping from a straw of half-melted custard. " We still need to come up with something."

Remy fidgets with his cup, then rubs the back of his ear. "Uh, well, I didn't really think of many places, you have any ideas?"

"Truthfully? No," Nadiya admits. She sets her cup down on her side of the table. Watching with bored amusement as Kardala eats the last of her Italian ice and makes a show of belching.

The woman at the other table recoils. Unnerved, she hurriedly gathers her child up to leave. "But I have a place—a lab, really. And at some point, I would like to return there and get back to work. I'm assuming you have something, too?"

Remy stares and then sits quiet for a moment. She can't tell what he's thinking. His eyes read too far away; difficult to decipher. She wouldn't actively try to delve into it, but the thought still crosses her mind. His fingers tap along the smooth edge of the table. " I guess. It's probably a good idea to consider splitting the party up, but won't that mean we just lose our powers?"

"Kardala is not interested in such a plan." Kardala's voice gargles around a slush of custard, like the subsided hum of a motor underwater.

She drops her cup into the pile of crushed trash at her end of the table and wipes her mouth. "I would much prefer we stick together."

Expecting this, Nadiya frowns. "Well, what else do you have in mind, then?"

"I get it," Remy says. "You don't want to split up because you don't wanna lose your ability to be you and leave the, um, uh, what was it again? Prison?"

"Yes, that is correct." Kardala nods, confirming.

"Right, but wouldn't we be better off on our own anyway?" Nadiya glances between Remy and Kardala. " Like, if we stick together, it might make it hard for us to move about as we are."

"That's a good point," Remy looks off to the side.

Kardala rises from her seat, the whole table rattling to shake both people and half-melted gelato alike, as she levels her eyes with them and frowns. Her bushy eyebrows twitch.

"No, I do not agree. We are better together than alone. I cannot trust that being apart from you will keep me out of the Irene prison. This power binds the three of us to one another. And so I believe dividing our number would be foolish. We should stick together; that is my reasoning."

"And it's pretty solid reasoning, too." Remy grants, "Looks like we're stuck on what to do."

Nadiya puts her cup down and thinks. It was better to have them all together; she'll give them that. Having a goddess by their side made it easier to fend off attackers. As far as experiences go, they seem to be pretty well off. She couldn't see anything wrong with it.

"I suppose, we could make this work." she stops and overlooks their faces, sinking her stare like a shovel through their eyes. She has to be sure of this. "Is that really what you want? You're sure of it?"

"Hell, I'm down." Remy leans over, arms folding behind his head in a mock stretch, then smiles. "I had my reasons before, but now that I'm thinking on it, what do we have to lose? We're pretty unstoppable as we are now; why split that up?"

"Kardala agrees," the goddess nods. "She and I both believe that this decision will be best."

"Wait, she?" Nadiya's brow raises, in tandem with Remy's, who freezes and looks bewildered at Kardala. "Are you talking about—"

"Irene?!" Remy jumps up. The look on his face is like a shitty Jim Carrey imitation, all raised brows and wild eyes. " She's—you can hear her? "Can she speak?"

Kardala fixes to open her mouth, but stops and shakes her head. "It is not something to be concerned about. I have..." She makes quick glances at the parking lot. "Forget that I said anything."

"Wait, what—"

"Come, I fear we have been here long enough; we should go." Kardala steps away from the table, eyes held forward, away from them.

"But what about—"

"I shall see you both at the iron vehicle." She says and walks toward their shared van a few meters away.

Remy and Nadiya sit back, watching her go. The shock dispels more rapidly for Nadiya than Remy.

He gets up and looks at Nadiya, confusion emerging in his mind as he stands halfway out of his seat. "What the fuck?" He mouths, and Nadiya shrugs.

"I don't quite understand it either, but we can ask about it later." She complies the rest of their trash together and stands up.

She wipes away any remaining food from her lips with a napkin, and moves to grab the keys off the edge of the table. "C'mon, Jumpboy, we've got a long road ahead of us."

They proceed by following four easy steps.

Step one: Get out of the city.

They take the narrow path, a backwater road cut from the same stretch of interstate, will do the trick. Nadiya hates traffic, so this way they could avoid the hassle while keeping their necks out of trouble.

Step two: Find a place to rest.

They've been driving by, one road after another, for hours on end.

The use of smaller roads makes it no surprise that the first place they encounter is a filthy backend motel off the shoulder of Iowa. Equipped with molded guardrails and bricks spread bare across the asphalt like ruptured bones from the cement.

They pay for a two-bedroom and call it in for the night. Nadiya takes the right, and Remy takes the left. Kardala is too big to lay in either, so they think the floor's a good spot for now.

Steps three and four: Shower and find something to eat.

This is where she stops following along. Nadiya feels the lethargic call of sleep paw at her as she sits on the edge of her bed. Even after the first successful shower of the week, she still stinks of grime and dirt. It would infuriate her more if hunger wasn't another pressing matter. Speaking of that—

She turns to look at the clock on the nightstand. It's a quarter past seven, according to the numbers.

Remy rifles through a grocery bag full of travel-size toiletries when she glints his way. "We got any more nature bars?"

He stops his rummaging. "Nah, Kardala got the last one, remember? All the snacks we had got ate up."

So there's nothing to eat. Wonderful. She releases a half-irritated sigh and stands up. "Well, that poses another dilemma. One of us is going to have to get food."

"I kinda figured that. There were a couple of restaurants we passed by on the way here. I saw one that looked pretty good—"

"Cool, thanks for volunteering." Nadiya heads to the restroom.

"Wait, what?" Remy turns with a bar of Dove soap in hand.

"Is the little man going to get food?" Kardala asks. She also stands and looks at Remy with interest. "I, too, wish to come along."

" I don't really think that's a good idea."

But Kardala is advancing on the door. Her long white cloak billowing behind her as she throws the door open. "It has been an age since I've last eaten—"

" It's only been an hour, though."

"—And I have grown even more famished with the need for sustenance."

" I just don't think, you, I, wouldn't you rather stay here?" Remy's brain feels scrambled, trying to gain a hold of the situation he now finds himself in. He looks after Nadiya by the bathroom sink, as helpless as a kitten up a tree.

" As long as you bring back something edible, I really don't care." Nadiya says.

If she can, she'd appreciate some time to herself, preferably for the next half hour. She picks up her toothbrush from the plastic cup by the sink and flashes him a peace sign. "Just be quick about it."

The sigh Remy lets out is accompanied by Kardala's laughter. "Great."

Resigned to his fate, he grabs the key to the motel from the dresser and slips on his shoes.

They're out the door in record time.

Bertinelli's Pizzeria is quaint and brightly lit.

The spot is akin to the kind of place you'd find in cozy, family-run neighborhood chains, complete with soft, soothing music and a hint of spice in the air.

A place crowded with pictures and signs on every wall, and Remy is doing his best to calm an incredibly distraught Irene.

"Are you sure you don't need a few more minutes?" A server, no older than twenty, stands by the table.

She has on a safe, polished smile, looking at Remy, but every so often her glance strays towards the blubbering woman to her left. "I can always come back."

Remy has one hand wrapped around Irene's trembling one, rubbing circles into the skin as she keens and sobs noisily into a tissue.

He shrivels under the attention their table's getting. There's hardly anyone left in this restaurant who doesn't give them weird looks.

The menu sits under his arm. "Um," he says, "no, we'll just order, uh." He makes a grab for it with one hand, flying through the pages, more or less scrambling.

"One large pepperoni to go and, uh," he looks over. "You want any appetizers? They've got some sliders here—uh, breaded chicken—cheeseburger, um. Maybe a drink?"

Irene dabs her eyes, sniffling, and, gods, her eyes look so red. "Okay, um, yeah, we'll just go with that, and some tea, please."

He gives the order, and the server scampers off. " Hey, Irene, hey. It's okay… Come on, it's not that bad, is it?"

She's blowing her nose into what may be their table's last napkin. Irene sucks in sharp breaths while a pile of tissues sits by her elbow. "I just," she says, then inhales, closing her eyes.

"I just..." then another blow, this time louder, with a shudder, and she slouches in her seat.

"It's a lot." Remy admits, his voice soft, like talking down a skittish animal. "It's a lot to take in, I know, and definitely harder to digest even for like, like I don't know, anybody, really."

He squeezes her hand, a placid smile on his lips. "But we'll be okay now. Everything's gonna be okay."

A few moments later, the server returns with their drinks. He asks for a few more napkins.

The tea's nice and cold going down his throat, unsweetened. He grabs four packets of sugar off the sugar rack and dumps it all in. "You want any sugar with yours?"

She sniffles and tucks the napkin in the used pile. "No, I'm more of a honey person," she says. "Can't use much sugar."

"You drink honey with yours?"

"Yeah." Irene's voice is high and wobbly, like she could crack at any moment and the dam would burst through. It makes his hand itch to reach forward. "I've always preferred it, seemed healthier that way."

That shouldn't feel surprising to him, and yet somehow it does. " Huh, I, didn't know that."

She lets out a hushed laugh. "Of course you didn't; why would you? We haven't spoken a word to each other since..." She stops, a hiccup following. "My gods, I can't even remember the last time we spoke; it's been that long."

"Well, factoring in what's happened so far, I'd say we're kinda sailing in the same boat." If he tries remembering, most of what he'll find are only smokescreen blurbs. It's collated into one vague jumble, a disorganized image of the trip's events. He'll admit it's not very helpful, and it does nothing for his memory either, so that's one thing they have in common. A shared sense of knowing the framework but not all its details.

Little things still peek out, more than others, but really, everything's been upside down and backwards since they knocked the King off his proverbial throne.

"There's a lot that's blurring for me." He says, "I mean, between the king and dropping him off, DC, and hot-wiring a car, not much else is sticking."

Irene mouths out a 'what', incredulous.

"Though, I don't know if the car thing happened before we got chased by police, or if it was after we got shot at, probably both."

"YOU WERE WHAT?!" Irene shoots out of her seat, palms flat on the table.

The outburst rings so loud, it clambers over the overhead speakers, drawing a number of heads their way. Irene shrinks under the sea of eyes, scolded by her own embarrassment, and sits back down.

"It was only one time," Remy points out. " One time's not that bad."

" Not that bad, he says." Irene shakes her head in disbelief.

"No, I mean, it wasn't okay; it could've been worse, like, let me explain." He takes a sip of his tea and clears his throat.

"We made a stop somewhere. I think it was the DMV area, maybe a little ways out. I don't know; my mind's still a little wishy-washy on the details, but. We were rounding our way out the city, when some dipshit got a little aggro with Kardala. Something about a horse? I think we ran by a carnival or something, I don't know. Point is, he got aggro and Kardala did a punch. We had a fight."

He pantomimes a fist flying through the air. "Long story short, Kardala punched a horse—a fake one." He holds up a finger at Irene's half-formed shock. —"Then some other stuff, and then the cops came, and we had to dip. Nadiya hot-wired a car, I got punched, we drove out, and here we are."

Her expression is blank for a moment as Remy finishes. It seems like something Irene should respond to, but she's dead silent, staring into space.

When he thinks he's said something wrong, Irene flops back into her seat, the table rattling loud as she slouches inward. Her eyes scrunch together in this uncomfortable fashion. She inhales, once, before shakily pushing her face into her hands.

He already feels what's coming. "Aw, Irene, hey...

" I just..." she says, muffled by her shirt's wrinkled sleeve. Her attempts to speak are overwhelmed by another round of sobs. Remy rounds the booth and braces an arm around her shoulder. "It's okay; we're gonna be alright."

This kind of comfort isn't much, and he knows it. As he's more in tune with his less-than-socially inclined skills than others. And while he isn't a complete aficionado in the art of consoling others, he would safely say his skills were at least intermediate. Which is more than he could say for anyone else.

He's glad he got sent on this food trip instead of Nadiya. He couldn't imagine how she'd handle this.

And he does care, because this is Irene. Someone he hasn't seen since... Gods, how long has it been? A week? Two? He swivels to check his phone reflexively, but—oh yeah—he doesn't have a one anymore.

At last, the appetizers arrive, and the server refills his cup. Irene's remained untouched as the server gives the heads-up on the pizza; it will be here soon.

He heads back to his side of the booth, picking up a slider, and they go quiet for a moment. "Do you wanna try some?" He offers.

She looks at the plate in front of them. "I'm good." Then, a second later, she looks back. A particular scrunch on her face; some kind of internal conflict going on. "Sure."

He passes her two chicken sliders on a plate, and she gnaws on them, taking small bites.

Remy knocks out his meal and slurps down the rest of his tea. "So," he begins, "how are you feeling?"

"Not that great." Irene mumbles around her slider. In the time it took Remy to finish, she'd only eaten half. Her tears have stopped, though, which seems like progress.

" I figured."

"Remy, what are we even doing?"

"You want the good answer or the bad answer?" He says, putting the drink down.

She gives him an exhausted look.

Okay, good answer it is.

"To be honest, I—we, don't really have much of a clue. I mean, to me, I definitely don't, and Nadiya said she'd work one out, but as of right now, we've got nothing. Kardala said she wanted us to stick together. Thinks we're better off that way. But I think that's because of her being—" He makes vague gestures with his hands, putting four fingers together to make a horizontal diamond. "—connected to us. She said something about you, though, which I've been curious about ever since, um."

Irene blinks. "Something about me?"

"Yeah, she said that you also wanted to stick with us, or that you agreed to it. Which sort of implies you and her can communicate? Or that she can hear you somehow? And I don't really know what that means exactly, but maybe you do. Can you actually talk to her in there?"

Irene sets her slider down. Her face looks unreadable. "I, I don't know, maybe? I haven't...—You have to understand, Remy, this is all very new to me. Everything about this, all of this is, I don't, I don't know."

Okay. Not the answer he's expecting, but it's also not not an answer. He supposes he could live with that. "Alright."

They finish what food they can, before the pizza arrives in a box. Remy thanks and tips the server before grabbing a few boxes for the sliders they didn't eat.

"DEMON, WE HAVE RETURNED!"

Nadiya looks up from the book she was just reading.

Kardala walks in with half a slider in her mouth, another in her hand, and an open box of food in the other. She swallows the first before tearing into a second. Meat and bread spittle with every chew. Behind her, Remy settles the box of pizza on the table.

"It's about time." Nadiya stretches and stands. "What took you?"

"Nothing," Remy answers, automatic. "Just a long wait."

"Really?" she says, walking towards the table to get a closer look. Pepperoni and cheese—not a bad combination. "That's it?"

He pulls a slice out of the box and bites a piece off, turning to her. "Yep."

"We have also acquired sliders!" Kardala raises an arm, her mouth stuffed with bread.

"Seems we've got a bit of everything." Nadiya half-mumbles to herself, but doesn't complain any further. Happy enough that they brought back a meal. She takes a plate and a napkin and gets herself two slices before heading towards the bed.

Remy stays behind, eating his fill before hopping over to his bed. He kicks his shoes off and lands face-first into a pillow. He relaxes his shoulders and back as he gets comfortable. It's been a long day. He could use some sleep, but something keeps gnawing at him.

"Hey, Nadiya." The look he receives is none too pleasant, but he ignores it, offhandedly. He wonders when he's grown used to that—the looks they give each other.

"Are you, alright?"

The pause of silence that follows that question makes him look over. Nadiya sits on the bed, pizza grease dripping on her plate. "What?"

"I mean, are you all good? I know we haven't gotten the chance to talk about it, but, I figured since we're here, we could. I don't know." He scratches the back of his ear, suddenly nervous.

Nadiya stares for a few moments, brows furrowed in that perfect arc, the way they'd get when she's scrutinizing something, all analytical in the dim lamplight. Then her nose wrinkles. "Just, go to sleep, Christopher."

She turns back and continues to eat, eyes on the TV, and Remy sighs.

Well, it was worth a shot; there isn't much to expect, not from someone like Nadiya. But it's still an answer, and also a non-answer.

Whatever, maybe they'll talk about it on a later day. When they're not fretting over what to do. Remy turns over in his bed, fluffing his pillow, and lays down to sleep.